


No way back

by nupoxsi



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Absorbing Relationships, Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nupoxsi/pseuds/nupoxsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stevie won't ever be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No way back

**Author's Note:**

> This work is shamelessly inspired by a song called [Stevie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-SsbpjybjE) from Kasabian. I really loved the song and the idea just came to me on an internetless evening. Perhaps it’s a bit ambiguous, but that’s the only way I could work with this. It is also the first time I write something like this, so bare with me.  
> Endless kudos to [Minorka](http://archiveofourown.org/users/huangzitao/pseuds/huangzitao), who bared with me and did the beta reading for this when she didn’t even know the pairing. She’s too special tbqh. Besos bebesa.  
> This is set in an alternate universe in which none of them are football players.  
> Enjoy!

 

 _“Little little man, little little man_   
_set your canary free, it wants to fly._   
_I am that canary, little little man,_   
_leave me to fly.”_

— Alfonsina Storni

 

* * *

 

“I can’t wash it off.” Stevie tried to scrub his hands a little bit harsher, but the red tainted on them was never going to go away. “I can’t wash it off.”

The walls around him seemed to be closing in, the memories flashing back and forth in his mind, and all of the sudden he felt there was no air in the small bathroom. He tried punching the wall, but they kept closing in, leaving Stevie standing up in front of the mirror with a vacant expression for what felt like an eternity. He was sad, angry, desperate to get the blood off him, but every attempt seemed to be meaningless.

At times Stevie thought it would be impossible to erase the red from his hands, from his memories. Closing his eyes didn’t help much either, every time he flew his eyelids open Stevie started to notice how the blood wasn’t only in his hands. The white walls were also tainted of red, several splashes of blood scattered in different proportions. Stevie felt sick, his stomach threatening to throw out the little plate of food he’d eaten earlier at lunch.

“Bloody hell.”

Stevie was standing in a pool of blood. He took one step back, a loud splash on the surface of the puddle of red. The water running on the sink wasn’t of any help either, the sound of the water flowing was starting to drive him mad. Stevie punched the wall again, leaving a mark of his fist stained on the surface.

“Stevie, are you okay?” A voice asked from the outside, followed by two knocks on the door when there was no reply. “Answer me, or I swear I’ll go in.”

“I’m okay, Nando,” he exclaimed angrily. “Fuck off.”

The bottle of liquid soap was down to its half as Stevie poured even more in his palms. He scrubbed from his fingers to his elbows, but it all seemed to be rather helpless. When would the blood go away? When would it stop tormenting him every time he lost his cool? The familiar metallic scent filled his nostrils and in spite of the two showers he’d already taken, he still reeked of blood.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Stevie shouted, throwing angrily a white towel to the floor after he dried his hands. “Useless piece of shite.”

He unlocked the bathroom door and walked into the small hotel room he was sharing with Fernando, refusing to take a final look at the mess on the inside of the bathroom. It would go away eventually, he figured, it had to. If not, Stevie guessed he’d have to embrace it as another part of himself.

It was a double bedroom, and Fernando was sitting in the corner of his own bed, head buried in the palms of his hands. As Stevie walked closer, dragging his soaked shoes, Fernando lifted his head, a concerned expression on his face. He looked older than he really was, dark circles under his eyes that reminded Stevie of how little sleep they both had gotten in the last week.

“You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Fernando tilted his head. “Just making sure everything’s fine.”

“Don’t do that shite.” Stevie was sick and tired of having people around him ask him the same question over and over again. He was fine, didn’t need help. “Not you.”

“Alright.”

Stevie tried to ignore the worry in Fernando’s voice and dropped himself on the mattress. They’d been staying together ever since it had happened. Truth was, Fernando was a good lad, but sometimes his good intentions could get the worst out of Stevie. Instead of letting his temper win, he glanced down his arms, and realised they were completely clean. His shoes also were in perfect state, no red stains on the floor to prove otherwise.

“We still meeting Iker tomorrow?” Stevie inquired.

“Yeah, man. I mean, wasn’t that the whole point about coming to Madrid?”

“The funeral…”

“Won’t be in Madrid, Stevie. I’ve already told you we’ll be going to Donostia tomorrow at eight.”

Stevie sighed, eyelids dropping as his head sunk deeper into the pillows. At least he didn’t cry now, didn’t find any relief over showing his weaknesses in front of other people. It was true his heart ached as it never had ached before, but that was just another perk of being alive. In fact, Stevie wasn’t _sad_ , he was angry, furious.

“Stevie, can you do me a favour and stop staring at the ceiling like that? I’m starting to get seriously worried,” Fernando spoke, taking him out of his trance. “Are you completely sure you’re okay?”

“I’m going to bloody strangle you if you ask me that question again.”

And Stevie wasn’t taking the piss. There was not a trace of happiness nor amusement in his voice. His hands were strong enough to strangle someone, and Fernando’s neck was slender enough. Applying the right pressure, he could end everything in less than five minutes. Even the slightest act of aggravation could pull all of his strings and make his blood boil with anger. Stevie used to be a very controlled lad, but things were different now. He was a changed man.

“Okay,” Fernando said as he stood up from the bed, probably talking to himself to keep his calm. “I’m going to get us something to eat tonight. Want anything in particular?”

“No.”

“Perfect.” He grabbed his jacket from the small wardrobe and headed towards the door. “I’ll be back soon. Make sure to take your medication.”

Stevie rolled his eyes. “Fuck off already.”

“Stevie... “

“I’ll take the goddamn pills, just get off my arse.”

The door closed and Stevie was alone.

 

* * *

 

 

Sleeping meant dreaming, and dreaming meant Stevie got to see him again.

People often said dreams weren’t real, but who was to say that, if they felt as real as the wind blowing in your hair, as the warm sunshine on your naked arms, as the kiss of someone you loved the most?

Dreams were part of Stevie’s reality now. They were ephemeral, yes, but he was always there, and that was enough. Stevie got to see him every now and then, they did different things together. In special occasions, they would be somewhere else, playing football, watching tv, listening to the kind of music he used to like. Stevie didn’t like that music, but he loved the sound of his singing voice, no mattering how much he claimed to hate it. In spite of this, what happened more often were simple conversations between the two of them. After asking how the day went, he would listen carefully and with patience whatever Stevie had to say. They’d always been two talkative people, words were always fundamental in their relationship. That night in particular, he was telling Stevie all kind of stories, especially of the multiple trips they took in all the years they were together.

“Do you remember the time we flew to Amsterdam from New York and met Jenson Button?” He said with melancholy as he nuzzled closer. Stevie was sat in bed and he was in his arms, his auburn hair soft against the crook of Stevie’s neck. “That was incredible.”

“It was, love,” Stevie agrees. “I really loved the tulip fields.”

“I’m sure you did. Do you still have the pictures we took in there?”

“Of course I do, who do you take me for?” Stevie chuckled, pressing his lips to his forehead. He was cold, and Stevie promised himself he’d do whatever it took to keep him warm, keep him alive. “I would never lose those pictures.”

They both chuckled at the memories. It was great that they were able to communicate like this. Days without him were empty and null, always leaving Stevie feeling as if there was a part of him missing. He also told him about his little incident in the bathroom, and the man with the auburn hair and orange beard simply lifted his head enough to place a small yet sweet kiss over Stevie’s lips, promising that would never happen again. It was the seventh time he made that promise.

“Hey, Stevie.” Someone called him, and when Stevie looked down at him, he disappeared right before his eyes. “Stevie?”

“Xabi?” he mumbled with a husky voice.

“No. Fernando,” the voice replied, and it was only then that Stevie was able to blink into reality. He was awake, in the hotel room he’d booked the previous night. “I let you sleep more than I should’ve, but we’re supposed to meet Iker in an hour, so you better get a shower. I brought you breakfast and coffee.”

“Thank you.” Stevie ran a hand over his head, pushing himself up promptly by his elbows. Fernando offered him a warm and small smile, and Stevie felt like shit for the way he spoke to him the previous night. “Xabi asked about you last night.”

Fernando instantly turned around to look at him. His eyes open wide, but his expression relaxed in a couple of seconds.

“Yeah?” He asked, lips pressed into a small smile. “What did you tell him?”

“That you’re okay.” Stevie closed his eyes only to remember Xabi’s joke about Fernando’s freckles. “Told me a couple of jokes about you, and I also told him that you’d taken me to Madrid.”

“I bet that amused him.”

He grinned. “It did.”

Stevie felt lighter now. The pills always had that effect on him, they numbed him to the world. The whole room seemed to be brighter, even Fernando’s face was paler, almost matching the white walls on the background, if it weren’t for his freckles. His heart was beating slow, and his hands felt considerably slender. Stevie hated that feeling.

“I already texted Iker, he’ll be waiting for us in there.”

“That’s good,” Stevie mumbled. “Hey, Nando, about last night, I’m sorry.”

Fernando waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry.”

But he did worry.

At least everything would be over soon.

 

* * *

 

_“I love you so much,” Stevie whispers in his ear as he runs his fingers on Xabi’s back._

_“I love you too.”_

_“I can’t imagine how my life would be without you.”_

_“Neither do I.” Xabi rolls in bed and kisses him, and he kisses him back. “But I think I need a little space, cariño.”_

_“Space?”_

_“Some time to myself, there are things I need to do... “_

_“What things?”_

_Xabi loops his arms around Stevie’s waist to pull him closer. “Personal things.”_

_“I’d rather you didn’t do things without me, though,” Stevie says, kissing Xabi’s temple. “I want to be with you every second of my life.”_

_“But-”_

_“No buts. I’ll always be with you.”_

_Xabi smiles sadly at him, and Stevie doesn’t read the sadness hid behind it._

 

* * *

  
 

Xabi had told him what happened that very night.

After he’d found Xabi lying in a pool full of blood, someone had taken Stevie to the hospital. According to Fernando, he’d gotten pretty violent with whomever tried to approach him, throwing punches and kicks without mercy. Without a doubt, Stevie’d been devastated the moment they had managed to get him off Xabi, making a total mess of himself. He was certain he’d only been able to conceal sleep due to the amount of drugs they got inside of him once they got him in a hospital bed. What they didn’t know was that Stevie was actually thankful for the load of sedatives. He slept and he saw Xabi that night.

 _It wasn’t me_ , he’d said in between tears as he lied in Stevies arms once again, _Iker did it. You have to believe me, why would I do that to you? I would never leave you. I will never leave you._

He knew Xabi had been completely honest. There was no point in lying to him, he’d never lied before. They loved each other more than anything, and Stevie had thought about it for too long. Xabi loved him and he loved Xabi, they would never let go of each other.

There were many things Stevie didn’t remember at its best, but it was understandable, the amount of memories of Xabi he had were but more than a million. He could recall watching at him brushing his teeth from their bed, also how they celebrated his last birthday in Monte Carlo and the amount of wine they drank that night. And he also remembered how soft Xabi’s words had been.

_Iker did it._

_He killed me_

And he remembered the look on Xabi’s face, how dead his eyes were, how much blood there was everywhere. He’d knelt down and taken him in his arms, shaking him in hope to see any sign of life within him. Xabi’s wrist were slain, deep, vertical cuts that had drained him. Desperate to apply pressure on the wounds, Stevie’s hands had gotten all red from his blood, as well as all of his clothes. But he hadn’t cared about the blood at all, because he kept crying out for Xabi and getting no answer. Xabi was dead and now he was alone.

More than ever, he definitely knew what to do.

 

* * *

 

_“Don’t you think you’re being a little bit controlling?” Fernando asks as he drinks his pint of beer._

_“Controlling?” Stevie asks skeptically._

_“I don’t know, man. It’s been about two years since I last saw Xabi out all by himself. He doesn _’_ t even hang out with the spanish boys anymore. Last time we were watching Eurovision at Cesc’s place he said you didn’t feel like coming. And I don’t know... ” Fernando sighs. “You’ve even been following Xabi at work, and that’s just a bit weird.”_

_“I love him.”_

_“I’m not saying you don’t love him, I’m just saying you should let Xabi breathe for five seconds.”_

_Stevie rolls his eyes. “He wants me by his side as much as I want him.”_

_“If you say so... “_

_Fernando drinks from his pint while Stevie ignores his comment. Xabi will get back at any second from the restroom, and Stevie can’t do anything but stare expectantly until he gets back._

 

* * *

 

“Are you ready?” Fernando said, asking permission with his eyes to place a hand on Stevie’s shoulders, which he allowed with a small nod. “Good.”

“Why don’t you get down first and wait for me in the lobby?” Stevie suggested. “I promise I won’t take long.”

Fernando gave him a suspicious look, wrinkling his freckled nose. “I’m not going to ask you if you’re sure about this, I’ll just wait, and if you don’t come down in ten minutes I’ll come back.”

“Sure thing.”

“I left you the medication next to the glass of water,” he commented, pointing over at the table as he walked out of the bedroom.  “I’ll see you in ten,” Fernando said before closing the door behind him.

Stevie walked over to make sure the door was properly locked. The last thing he needed was someone walking in uninvited. He’d eaten the food without throwing it back up, which he actually considered a progress. It was hard keeping the food down when Stevie felt dizzy and unsteady most of the time, so he actually had enjoyed the food. Plus, he needed strength for what was left of the day.

Three different pills were laid over the surface of the furniture, white, blue and pink pills that did nothing to him. Stevie hated the medication, hated feeling he needed help when he was sane. He knew Fernando cared for him, and that he’d only agreed on taking him to Spain over the promise he’d take the medication and behave politely around other people. Stevie knew he’d made a promise to Fernando, but the promise he’d made to Xabi was far more important. Plus, what good were pills when his senses sharpened whenever he was off them? They only made him sleepy and slow.

“Useless medication,” he mumbled, taking the pills in hand and throwing them into the bin.

Stevie didn’t need medication, he wasn’t crazy.

The duffel bag he’d brought was still in the wardrobe. Fernando had specified they’d be back to the hotel to look for their baggage before heading off to the airport. That was even better, Stevie thought to himself as he threw the inside of his duffel bag over the mattress of his bed. There were mostly clothes, a small biscuit tin in which he’d gathered some of his favourite pictures with Xabi, his toothbrush and other personal objects.

What he needed in that moment, though, was what had been wrapped in a red shirt for days now.

Stevie retrieved the small gun he’d bought while still in Liverpool and hid it on the inside of his socks, making sure it wasn’t noticeable for outsiders. If he was going to keep his promise, he was going to do it the right way. Stevie put all the things inside his duffel bag again and tossed it inside the wardrobe.

He turned around and exited the room.

 

* * *

 

_“Where do you think you are going?” Stevie shouts angrily._

_“I need some time to think.”_

_“Think about what!?”_

_“About things, Stevie, goddammit.” Xabi puts on a brown jacket that matches his plaid shirt. “My life doesn’t revolve around you.”_

_Stevie’s hand circles around Xabi’s arm, keeping him from walking away. “Like bloody hell it doesn’t!”_

_“Let go of me.”_

_“Never.”_

 

* * *

 

Iker was one of Xabi’s closest friends, and eventually got dragged to Xabi and Stevie’s group of friends. Xabi had met him at a coffee shop in their University when he was doing his major in business management. Steven had met him many times in the past, and not mattering how hard he tried to like the bloke, there was something that kept him from doing that. Iker was always looking at Xabi with hungry eyes, and Stevie felt the need to protect what was his. It was obvious that he’d failed at protecting Xabi.

When Stevie first met Iker, he asked Xabi a lot of things about him, and his gut wasn’t wrong. Xabi had told him that in their first years of friendship, Iker had tried to hit on him several times, and they ended up having a big fight that led Xabi to drift away for a couple of months. Apparently, that had worked like a charm. Iker had understood that Xabi didn’t want their friendship to go beyond that.

He’d definitely been too naïve to think Iker would give up on Xabi.

From the other side of the street, Stevie was able to spot the table in which Iker had been waiting up for them. The restaurant they’d picked for their encounter had been just perfect, with some rows of tables settled on the outside of the restaurant and not much security on the inside of the place. Fernando walked by his side, and Stevie shuddered when he saw the smile on his face as they crossed the street and approached the table.

Iker instantly stood up. He was wearing one of those cardigans that made him look like an arsehole, and Steve had to struggle real hard not to punch the guy in that moment. In all the times they’d met in the past, Iker always had this flaw, this air of superiority that was something characteristic of him by now. Everyone noticed that, it wasn’t only Stevie. However, as soon as they reached their table, Iker enveloped Stevie into a warm hug that made his insides coil.

“Oh, Stevie... “ He breathed into his ear. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, mate.”

“I tried to text you, but Fernando said it would better not to.”

Iker let go of him, and Stevie forced a smiled. “It’s alright, I wasn’t in the mood of texting anyone, really.”

“I guess. And oh, Nando.” Again, Iker threw his arms on Fernando and pulled him closer, hugging him a little more kinder than the one he’d given to Stevie. “How are you?”

“Holding on, I guess,” Fernando replied with a small smile. “Why don’t we have a seat and see what we’re going to have for lunch today?”

“That sounds wonderful!” Iker exclaimed, pointing at their table with enthusiasm.

Stevie limited himself to nod and sit down the chair. Time had to go by really fast.

 

* * *

 

“So if you’ll excuse me,” Iker said politely, placing the napkin beside his plate of food and standing up from the table. “I need to use the restroom.”

Stevie forced a smile. “Not a problem.”

Nodding to the two of them, Iker walked away and towards the inside of the restaurant. Everything was going according to Stevie’s plans. As predicted, Iker had spoken about Xabi the most. He’d told things that were not strange for Stevie, memories of their late nights at the coffee shop, the time they went to see the Hombres G because Iker got them tickets, among other memories that could warm a person’s heart. It made Stevie clench his fist underneath the table instead.

“Iker has changed,” Fernando informed him as he took a sip of wine.

“Has he?”

“Yes.” He  made a face at Stevie. “I mean, I believe that what happened changed us all, but... Iker is different. I believe he’s sorry for all the things he didn’t get to say.”

“To apologise, you mean.”

“To do whatever he wanted to, man.”

Stevie complied, mostly because he couldn’t lose any more time. “I’m gonna use the loo too, Nando, I gotta take a wee.”

Without giving Fernando any time to reply, Stevie stood up from their table. The expression on the spaniard’s face made Stevie realise he’d have to hurry in order to accomplish his mission. On the inside the place wasn’t too crowded, but the loud chanting from some football fans were good enough for what he was there for. They were gathered around a big TV screen in two tables with more than twelve chairs each, and Stevie caught a glimpse out of the screen to discover that day was the Madrid derby.

However, there was no time for football that day.

With careful steps, Stevie approached the door that led to the bathroom. He took deep breaths. For Xabi, he thought to himself. Xabi would be so proud of him, he’d kiss him and thank him for doing this. Stevie was looking forward to see him in his sleep that night, he knew everything would be okay. Iker was going to pay for it.

But before he could walk in, Stevie felt a hand circling on his arm.

“Stevie, wait.”

Fernando was standing there, with an arched eyebrow and lips pressed into a thin line.

“What is your problem, Nando?” Stevie inquired furiously.

“I don’t want you alone with Iker in a room.”

“Everything is going to be alright, mate.”

“Just—”

Stevie didn’t really give a shite about Fernando’s words. He managed to break free of Fernando’s grip, and gingerly pushed him away. He didn’t need his friend to make a scene when things could happen without further problem. Stevie knelt down for less than three seconds to retrieve the gun from his sock and held it pressed against his chest.

“Is that a gun?” Fernando hissed under his breath, clearly alarmed. “Stevie, where you going with that gun?”

“Don’t follow me inside.”

He didn’t have time to explain, so he simply turned on his back and opened the restroom door.

Stevie didn’t believe in miracles, nor did he think God had some kind of plan for people. However, when he walked into the restroom, he noticed the place was alone but for Iker and himself. That definitely had to mean something, though, right?

With a relaxed expression, Iker was standing in front of the mirror. He always looked so smug, Stevie wanted to beat his face bloody. He’d only hung out with the lad before because of Xabi, something that he was now regretting on a daily basis. Stevie took the silencer from his jacket and attached it to the barrel of the gun without hesitation.

“Iker,” he called him.

“Oh, Steven, I—”

“Why did you do it?” Stevie asked, voice firm with conviction. “I’ll give you just one chance to admit it, so tell me, why, Iker? Why did you kill him?”

“What?” Iker made a face. “I didn’t—”

“Wrong answer.”

Stevie pulled the trigger twice and saw Iker’s body collapse to the floor.

He was about to leave without a second thought, only daring to take take one final look at Iker’s body to see the blood pool slowly growing over the tiles of the floor. There was something satisfying about seeing the person who’d hurt the one he loved the most now suffering, a feeling of fulfillment that wouldn’t leave Stevie alone for a while. He put the silencer back into his pocket and the gun back into the socks he was wearing, and flew the scene.

Outside Fernando was waiting for him, barely keeping himself together. Stevie muttered an insult under his breath and grabbed him by the sleeve of the jacket he was wearing, doing his best to drag him out of there.

“What did you do?” The freckled man hissed softly as Stevie walked them both out of the restaurant. “Fuck, Stevie, what happened?”

“Don’t go back into the bathroom.”

Fernando made them both stop near their table, getting in Stevie’s way whenever he tried to dodge him. “ _What happened?_ ”

“Justice.”

“Justice?” He echoed. “What do you mean by ‘justice’?”

“Bloody hell, Nando... “ Stevie ran a hand over his face, rubbing his temple. “It means what it means, alright? So do whatever the fuck you want, I’m going back to the hotel.”

Shouts could be heard from the inside of the restaurant, and he was able to see Fernando’s face getting paler. It turned out to be Real Madrid’s goal and several people cheering from utter joy. Looking at his surroundings and his table, Stevie realised he couldn’t care less for his plate of food, so he buried his hands on his pockets and turned away from there.

 

* * *

 

Stevie was retrieving his duffel bag from the wardrobe when Fernando got inside the hotel room. He only spared him a glance before turning back to his own business. If they wanted to get to the airport in time for their flight, they should get going in about half an hour, and knowing Fernando and his skill on losing time in the most useless ways, Stevie needed things to speed up.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“No,” Stevie mumbled as he grabbed Fernando’s luggage and threw it at his feet. “We should get going.”

“Get going?”

“To the airport. We need to get to Donostia today.”

Fernando grimaced. “I think you’ve completely lost it.”

Stevie didn’t understand what he meant. Had Fernando not understood Iker was the one who took away Xabi’s life? Didn’t Fernando like Xabi? They were supposed to be friends, after all, so Stevie couldn’t possibly why Fernando was reacting that way.

“Come on, mate, we should get going,” Stevie said, patting Fernando’s shoulder as he got closer.

“Don’t fucking touch me again,” he spat out in anger, wincing away. “Don’t you ever talk to me again, Stevie. Fuck.”

“The fuck is wrong with you, Fernando?”

“The fuck is wrong with me? Fuck you, Stevie.” Tears started to roll down Fernando’s freckled cheeks, his voice breaking in the middle of the insult. “You’ve just— you killed him! Oh my God…” Fernando was walking back and forth the room, driving Stevie mad. “You killed a man without reason whatsoever. Why would you— he was as upset as you.”

“No one is as upset as me.”

“What the fuck?” Fernando stopped, shaking his head. “You think no one else could love Xabi? You’re fucking insane.”

“Don’t,” Stevie adverted.

“Or what? You’ll kill me too?”

“Thats rubbish. I would never—”

“Why did I ever listen to you? Why did I take you to Spain to go to the fucking funeral of someone you never deserved?” Fernando was angry, but Stevie was starting to get angry too. Who was Fernando to judge their relationship? “I should’ve left you locked up in England.”

“You brought me because I had to come to the funeral. I can’t miss it, I would never miss it.” Stevie tried to explain it to Fernando, but somehow it was hard for the spaniard to understand. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“Of course I know.”

“Iker killed Xabier.” Stevie needed to make him understand. “He killed him, he took him away from me, he ruined us.”

“What? Goddammit, Stevie, he didn’t kill Xabi.”

“He fucking did.”

“Oh my God, are you even listening to yourself?” He shouted, his hands pointing at him accusatively. “He’d been in Madrid all along!”

“He lied. Iker killed Xabi.”

Fernando started to shake his head even harder, the tears falling with every movement. “Iker did not kill Xabi, he killed himself. You two were having problems and he couldn’t take it, so he decided to end it himself. I don’t blame you for it, no one blamed you, but Xabi killed himself That’s hard to accept, I grant you that, and I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be for you to understand that, but fuck, Stevie, seriously? You just killed an innocent man based on hallucinations?”

“I’m not having hallucina—”

“Xabi is dead. He doesn’t talk to you. He’s dead, he isn’t coming back.”

Stevie’s blood started to boil. Who was Fernando to say that? What in bloody hell did he think he was doing? Xabi loved Stevie and Stevie loved Xabi, they loved each other and they promised they’d never let go of each other. Fernando must’d been jealous of their relationship, maybe he even plotted with Iker to end it. Anger made its appearance when Stevie was suddenly lurching himself at Fernando with a closed fist. The punch landed right in his cheek.

“Keep your bloody mouth shut.”

Those words seemed to have some kind of effect on Fernando. The spaniard took a step back without saying a word. Stevie knew Fernando would probably give him hell about it later, but he’d deserved that for saying such harsh words.

“Are we going to Donostia or not?” Stevie spoke. “Our flight leaves in forty minutes.”

“You are on your own.”

With watery eyes, Fernando grabbed his luggage and turned around, storming off the place. The door closed with a loud thud, and Stevie was left standing up in the middle of the room with a blank expression.

Stevie knew he was on his own from the moment Xabi was gone.

 


End file.
